The end of winter was slowly approaching in the slums. It was two weeks after the Festival of the Ancient Flame, a celebration dedicated to the Primal Fire Spirit, symbol of raw energy and primal power. Snow still covered the main square, but the bone-chilling cold that once froze the air was now just a memory. The biting wind of winter had become a rare guest, replaced by a mild breeze heralding the imminent arrival of spring.

Ale, dressed in his dark coat with silvery glints, stood by the frozen fountain. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, lost in thought. Beside him, Chance, the old beggar with his wrinkled face, watched the deserted square, a contemplative look on his face marked by years. He warmed his calloused hands with his breath, his gaze focused somewhere beyond the immediate reality.

"The 'Prince of Light'?" Chance repeated the name, almost tasting it, a faint glimmer of thought crossing his tired eyes. Then, he shrugged slightly, his expression returning to its usual unreadable state. "No, kid... that doesn't ring a bell," he finally said, breaking the silence, his voice carrying its usual neutral tone. "There's the 'Fallen Prince,' sure, but everyone knows that story. I'll ask my contacts, but... don't get your hopes up. In all my years, I've never heard that name."

Ale let out a disappointed sigh. Chance, with his network of informants, had been his last hope for finding any information on the legendary Prince of Light, a name that had haunted his thoughts for so long. Yet, even the old beggar seemed unaware of it.

Chance averted his eyes, staring at an invisible point in the distance, an indefinable expression on his face. It was as if he had drifted into a distant memory, though he revealed nothing more than a vague hint of melancholy.

Just as the silence settled between them, a brown bird gracefully landed on Chance's knee. Its ruffled feathers and sharp beak contrasted with the gentleness of its arrival. A small scroll was tied to its leg, held in place by a simple string.

With a quick and precise motion, Chance untied the message, his experience evident in every movement. The bird, seemingly satisfied with completing its mission, pecked at a few crumbs of white bread that the old man had dropped at his feet, its behavior underscoring its familiarity with these little rituals.

Ale watched the scene in silence, intrigue etched on his face. Chance slowly unrolled the scroll, his eyes gradually lighting up as he read the message. A spark of hope danced in his gaze, illuminating his weathered features.

"We've got news, Ale!" Chance suddenly exclaimed.

Chance held out the scroll to Ale. "Listen to this: 'One of our associates spotted two girls matching the description. They were accompanied by two men from the Church. They got off a carriage at the Feuillargent way station, on the road between Eldoria and the Barony of Devalin.'"

"The associate tried to get closer to gather information. One of the Church men was speaking to the girls, comforting them. He was promising that they would be taken in by a wealthy family in the barony and that their hard life would soon be behind them."

Ale clenched his fists. It all sounded too good to be true. His instincts screamed that something was off.

Chance placed a hand on Ale's shoulder. "They'll take them there, for sure... But I doubt that this promise of a better life is as simple as it seems."

Ale nodded, his mind racing. He knew he couldn't wait any longer. The fate of those two girls, orphaned and vulnerable, now rested in his hands.

"Where exactly is the Barony of Devalin, Chance?"

"The Barony of Devalin is over 120 kilometers south, halfway between Eldoria and Luminis. If you take a regular carriage, it'll take you a full day of travel, not counting the stops," the old man said, crossing his arms.

Ale furrowed his brow. A full day... He knew that every minute counted to save the girls, but the journey could take too long.

"Isn't there a faster way to get there?" Ale asked, urgency clear in his voice.

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Chance nodded slowly, as if he had been expecting the question. "Yes, there is... The 'Hippogryphs.'"

"The what?" Ale asked, intrigued.

"The plains' hippogryphs. They're swift and powerful creatures, half-horse, half-stag, capable of covering up to 50 kilometers in an hour without ever tiring. But there's a price to pay for such speed… An express carriage pulled by hippogryphs costs 10 lunaris for every 10 kilometers, which is five times the price of a standard horse-drawn carriage. It'll set you back 120 lunaris for a one-way trip to the barony."

Ale felt the weight of the situation pressing down on his shoulders. Two hundred and forty silver pieces for a round trip... It was a substantial amount, but the lives of those two girls were at stake, and he couldn't afford to waste any time.

He dug into his pouch, feeling the coins slide between his fingers. "I could manage it..." he murmured, "but I'd be nearly broke."

The old man looked at him with a compassion that came from years of wisdom. Chance knew the harsh reality of the slums better than anyone, and that reality had often crushed the hopes of even the bravest souls. But in Ale, he saw something different—a rare spark, an invisible strength that made him believe this young man might be capable of achieving what others wouldn't dare to attempt.

"I know it's a steep price, kid," Chance said with a sigh, placing a reassuring hand on Ale's shoulder. "But if you want to save those girls before it's too late, it's your only quick option." A heavy silence fell between them, filled with the gravity of the moment. Chance studied Ale's face, watching every reaction, every hesitation. Behind the old man's tired eyes, there was a flicker of respect that he reserved only for those he believed capable of facing monumental challenges. Since the events at the castle, Ale was no longer just another boy from the slums in his eyes. He saw something greater, something noble, perhaps even a glimmer of hope for their future.

"Head to the South Gate of Eldoria," Chance continued gravely. "There, you'll find the messenger guild's stable. They have express carriages pulled by plains hippogryphs. If you want to get there in time, that's your best bet."

Ale nodded, his mind finally made up. "Thank you, Chance. I'll do what's necessary." The words were simple, but the weight they carried was immense. Ale straightened up, ready to leave the square.

Just as he was about to go, Chance gently grabbed his arm, holding him back once more. "One last thing, kid." Ale turned back, a questioning look on his face. The old man reached into his worn coat and pulled out a mask, simple yet discreet. He held it out to Ale with a barely perceptible smile.

"In some situations, it's better to keep your identity hidden, to avoid drawing trouble that you don't want on your back later," Chance said with a serious tone. Ale stared at the mask, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"I suspect you're now on the radar of some influential people in this city. Take this mask, and wear it if you need to protect yourself." The mask, although modest in appearance, seemed to carry something deeper. Ale could sense that Chance had put thought into this gesture, that there was a wisdom behind it forged from years of surviving the dark alleys of the slums.

Ale accepted the mask with respect, holding it firmly in his hand. "Thank you, Chance." Those two words seemed insufficient, but Ale knew that the old man understood.

Chance nodded, his eyes filled with a silent pride. "Go on, kid. Do what you have to do. The slums are counting on you, whether you realize it or not."

The old man watched as Ale walked away, his footsteps echoing on the damp cobblestones of the slum. But suddenly, Ale paused, turning back with a thoughtful expression and retracing his steps.

"Oh, by the way, I need some information on someone," he said, his tone contemplative. "It's the owner of an old villa, hidden in a maze of alleyways. A girl with brown hair, glasses... She was doing some strange experiments and using words I've never heard before."

Chance burst into a hearty laugh, shaking his head with clear amusement. "Ah, you must be talking about the 'Inventor of the Slums.'"

Ale blinked in surprise that Chance already knew who he was referring to before he had even finished his description.

Chance scratched his scruffy beard, taking a moment to think. "Well, from what I've heard, she's the daughter of a minor noble family around here. Not a big name, but they still have a bit of influence here and there. She's... let's say, different from the other nobles. Quite odd, actually. She keeps to herself, far from the high society events, and spends her time doing experiments that don't look like anything we've ever seen around here."

Ale furrowed his brow slightly. "Is she trustworthy?" he asked seriously.

Chance let out a chuckle, his eyes narrowing with a touch of mischievous kindness. "Let's just say she's harmless. Odd, yes, but she's never done anything to hurt anyone, at least not as far as I know. People just think she's... peculiar, with her clothes and her way of talking like she's from another world. But if she can help, she does it without hesitation. She's got more heart than most of the so-called nobles I've met."

He paused, then added with a sly smile, "I'll have my network dig a little deeper on her, though. You never know—better safe than sorry."

Ale nodded. "That would be helpful, thanks," he said, pulling out a silver coin and tossing it to the old man.

Chance caught the coin with surprising agility for his age. "Thanks, kid. I'll do my best to dig up some intel for you."

Ale smiled back, grateful for the old man's unwavering support, then turned on his heel and headed back on his path, his mind focused on the challenges that lay ahead.